


ordinary illusions

by RoseateGales



Series: Francisca "V" Valleau [1]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: (Don't Fear) The Reaper Ending, Age Difference, Alcohol, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Doctor/Patient, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Game, mentions of suicidal ideation, the age difference thing is more of a given but y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28688322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseateGales/pseuds/RoseateGales
Summary: The morning after her assault on Arasaka Tower, V wrestles with her diagnosis and looks forward to her future.
Relationships: Female V/Viktor Vector, Johnny Silverhand & V, V/Viktor Vector
Series: Francisca "V" Valleau [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102787
Kudos: 27





	ordinary illusions

_Still here._

That’s her first thought when she wakes. Has been for the last couple of months. _I’m still here_. The biochip hasn’t killed her yet, and neither has this body. She tests her movements, flexes her fingers. Feels the rough sheets on her skin, her lungs expand and contract under her chest as she breathes her relief. She gets to see sunlight steal through megabuilding windows again, and sunset fade into the neon lights of Night City. 

She buries her face in her pillow, expecting Johnny to start whining any moment. “Get up, V! Mikoshi won’t burn itself, blah blah blah—” 

Then she remembers. Johnny’s gone and Mikoshi’s already burned. Their last big “party” together, before they found out. God, she was ready to go then. Imagine that. Fighting so hard for so long. Constantly yelling at Johnny this body is _hers, hers, hers_. Doing anything to prove it—including storming Arasaka’s HQ with nothing but her best iron, a virus she’d been coding, a ghost in her head and his ex-girlfriend… Only to want to give it all up when she realized there’s no outrunning death. She wouldn’t be here if Johnny hadn’t given her hell for that. Rescue by guilt and manipulation. It’s just like them.

Fucked up as it is, Francisca supposes she should thank him. Twice, he’s saved her life. And he’s made her see that there’s more to living and fighting than survival. That mistakes can’t be avoided or fixed, but it matters more that she learns from them and tries to do her best.

Jackie taught her that, too. And Señora Welles. And Misty. And Vik. 

Vik.

Francisca opens her eyes to see him softly snoring next to her, and smiles. All his worn years, his imperfections, his scars, are visible in the golden light that bleeds across his bedroom. But she can’t but think he is the most beautiful man she’s had the pleasure of meeting. Who else would welcome her with open doors and open arms at four in the morning? Patch her up without wanting anything in return, save that she stay in one piece?

His voice was shaking with worry when she called. He’d just gotten home and showered, was about to head to bed when the news of her assault on Arasaka came onto his radio. He knew that if she didn’t have something to do with it, the aggressive rockerboy overwriting her consciousness did. A lover’s and ripperdoc’s intuition in one. 

She hates that she put him through that. And she still has to tell him—

Six months. One hundred and eighty two days. “Perhaps somewhat more,” as Alt said. Vik will know the moment he scans her, but he has the right to hear it straight from his lover’s mouth. To process it. She just doesn’t know how to tell him. “Hey, Vik, everything I did to get rid of Johnny? All for nothing! Could be dead in six months anyway!” He’d wall off his anger and disappointment. Talk to her about medications, treatments to ease her pain towards the end, what he can and cannot do. Say he’s sorry he can’t do more, can’t save her, can’t be her safety net this one time. And he’d hate himself for it, and she’d hate herself for dragging him into the mess of her life in spite of his misgivings and better judgment, and what they have may deteriorate as surely as her body’s connection to her mind will in six months, because what else can they do in an unbeatable situation? 

_Breathe. Just breathe. You’re not dead yet_ , Francisca reminds herself when tears prick at her eyes, slip onto her pillow. Vik can’t see her cry, or he’ll ask. He suspects something’s up as it is. She hasn’t refused a check up from him before, not like last night. “We’ll go to the clinic first thing after breakfast,” he’d said. 

“Can’t I get a break?” She winced as she reached for the whiskey bottle on his kitchen counter, cursing that the stitches on her arm weren’t fully set. “I told you, Alt’s done a full sweep.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust a rogue AI, V.” Vik sighed, and refilled her glass and his. “That chip’s experimental, and separating psyches isn’t a typical procedure. I’d rather be sure. A second opinion never hurt anyone.”

“I know, I know… It’s just… After everything that’s happened, I want to feel normal for a while.”

“Well, if anything feels abnormal, a check up can help with that.”

“You know what I mean.”

He remained unconvinced. It took reminding him that she has a routine one scheduled a week later for him to back down. A week isn’t long, but it’s something. It gives her time to find leads for a potential solution. Or, at least, to prepare for Vik’s reaction.

Johnny would be calling her a coward right about now. He’d be telling her she’s running away from her problems, like they’ve done throughout their lives.

She doesn’t plan to run, though. Needs time to find her best and face the worst, that’s all. Time is admittedly something she’s short on, but… She’ll manage. Somehow. She has to.

She leans over and touches Vik’s cheek. Inhales his scent, all musk, sweat, and anesthetic. Traces a line to his jaw and back, taking him in. He mumbles something she can’t catch, and moves closer to her, furrows in his forehead. He blinks awake. She continues her caress, patient and gentle, as his mind catches up to their surroundings and how they ended up in his bed. 

“Hey,” Francisca says.

Vik relaxes and smiles when he sees her. He captures her hand. “Hey, kid,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

She kisses him, savoring the sensation of her lips on his, the taste of last night’s drink. Vik meets her desire, her desperation, slipping his hand over her body and into her hair. He moans her real name. Never mind the staleness of their mouths, the heaviness of their limbs. She runs her hands over his shoulders. He shifts them so she’s on her side. She lets him roll her onto her back and part her legs. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs between nips on her neck and collarbone. His palms roam her thighs. Already, she’s arching into him. Forgetting that everything could end in six months.

She sighs. “Sure is.”

**Author's Note:**

> there may be some mistakes in this and an update to the fic, as it was minimally edited and written after i needed to scream after 180+ hours of the game. i have... a lot of feelings about it. and i know it might take some people out of the story to see v's name be anything other than v or their given canon name, but. uh. i used my v's name throughout this fic for Character Reasons and that's that.


End file.
